


my heart beats only for you

by louistomlinsons



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-31
Updated: 2012-12-31
Packaged: 2017-11-23 03:33:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/617608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/louistomlinsons/pseuds/louistomlinsons
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zayn’s this and Louis’s that and it shouldn’t work but it does. <br/>(Five different ways Zayn and Louis aren’t compatible but are anyway.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	my heart beats only for you

Zayn loses himself in his art, paints away his problems and paints in solutions. His paintbrush dances over his canvasses, leaving behind a trail of his emotions; the ones he’s too afraid to speak aloud. Somber blues, fiery reds, sunny yellows, envious greens, bruising purples, blushing pinks - they all explain his thoughts better than words ever could. 

Louis loses himself in his writing. It’s the only way he’s able to calm himself, the only way he’s able to get himself to sit still for more than five minutes. He’s this ball of energy, bouncing into walls and tiring people and never stopping, but give him a pen and a paper and he’ll sit still for hours. Sometimes he writes poems, of how cruel the world can be, or how heartbreaking love truly is. Other times it’s stories, anecdotes from his own life or things he’s imagined in his head over time. Most of all he writes his feelings, things he’d be too embarrassed to verbally say, how angry he is with the ignorance of people, how everyone is so willing to turn a blind eye. He writes things that anger him, things that make his blood boil until he’s murderous; he writes tragic true love stories, of love that’s gone away or dried out. He just loves putting words on paper. 

Zayn’s an artist and Louis’ an author and it shouldn’t work but it does. 

\- - -

Zayn doesn’t have to think when he dances, just let’s himself go in an orderly mess of limbs and stretches and beautifully crafted music. He dances until every muscle in his body screams in protest and sweat is dripping into his eyes and he can’t see any more. He dances blindly, eyes closed and arms outstretched - the only way he’s able to hold onto his sanity. He spins and twirls and jumps and sometimes falls, but it’s still better than the nightmare he has to face when the music stops and he retreats back into the real world.

Louis feels lighter when he sings, like the weight of the world has been lifted from his shoulders or he’s just told a secret he’s been dying to speak. He sings until his throat is raw and red and every note and breath is piercing like a knife. He takes deep breaths in, and releases a note he’s worked particularly hard on perfecting. He speaks through the lyrics, singing things he’d never allow himself to admit to anyone, his voice full of emotion, as if he’s living the song; he sings like the songs are written for him, like he’s lived everything he’s singing and it’s the most important thing in the world to him. He makes whoever he’s singing to feel like they’re being told a story, and they are, because Louis is telling the story he’s too shy to say otherwise.

Zayn dances and Louis sings and it shouldn’t work but it does.

\- - -

Zayn stands on the corner, leaning against the light post and tries to forget. Forget everything that’s happened so far, forget the last person he was just with, forget what it’s like to live a normal life. It’s a form of amnesia, he supposes, that he forces upon himself, where he seems to be unable to remember anything and lives in the moment. And it’s not like he enjoys it, because he doesn’t, but it’s something he has to do. No matter how much he hurts and aches, both physically and emotionally, he has to keep doing it. He’ll ruin his body to live and it’s not something he’s proud of. It’s not something he wishes he’d gotten into.

Louis walks home everyday, breifcase in hand and tie loosened around his neck; he’s grateful when the day ends and it doesn’t feel so much like a noose or a leash that holds him back from everything he wants. He gribs his bag until his knuckles turn white, thinking of everything that he could be doing right now - he could be living his dream. Or doing something he at least vaguely enjoys. Instead, there’s loveless marriage and crying children and twelve hour jobs. His shoes are too tight on his feet, compacting, and his suit isn’t bright and colorful like he wishes it were.

They’re both stuck doing something they hate and it shouldn’t work but it does.

\- - - 

Zayn gives and gives and gives and expects nothing back. He teaches kids who don’t even want to be there, who don’t give him the respect he deserves, and puts up with teachers who think they’re too good for him just because they’re thirty years older. But it’s something he enjoys, spending hours grading papers and trying to make a difference in a teenager’s life, when they don’t even care. He writes notes on how they can improve, ways to become a better person, until his fingers cramp up and he can write no more only for his advice to be thrown away. He wastes away his life for people who don’t even care.

Louis takes and takes and takes and refuses to give anything back to the world - he believes himself useless. So he allows his teachers to spend hours trying to teach him something new (or something he should have known for years now) and then turns a deaf ear to it. He gives them all trouble, both at home and at school, to get that rush he receives with the attention - the exciting feeling that flows through his veins when everyone is paying attention to him, whether it be good or bad. He loves watching them as their eyes light up with alertness and laughter and darken with disapproving glares. He takes from everyone and never gives anything in return.

Zayn’s a teacher and Louis’ a student and it shouldn’t work but it does.

\- - -

Zayn is quiet and brooding and everyone think she’s mysterious but there’s really not that much to him. He likes waking up early, before the sun even begins to rise, to go out and jog in the park a few blocks away. He likes drinking hot chocolate even in the dead heat of summer and curling up in the heaviest blanket he can find to watch The Notebook again. He’s had his heart broken and played with and yet still believes the one he loves is out there, waiting for him. He wants to be swept off his feet and treated like he’s meant to be. He wants to spoil his lover with gifts and kisses and love. He’s not mysterious at all, but if that’s what people want to believe, that’s what he’ll let them believe. 

Louis is loud and obnoxious and annoying and never seems to stop moving. He loves jumping on trampolines with his little sister and throwing an arm around the person nearest to him and pulling them close. He loves his family more than anything in the world and doesn’t believe that romantic love really exists, that it’s something we make up in our minds. He can never sit through movies all the through, so he never bothers to spend money on a movie ticket for a movie he won’t see the end of. He hates exercising and eating healthy, often pigging out on sweets that he shouldn’t buy but does anyway. People can’t seem to stand him very long so he doesn’t have too many close friends and they’re more like party buddies if anything at all. There’s not a lot to him, when you break him down, but he puts on such a show people don’t see the real him, and that’s fine by him anyway. 

Zayn is Zayn and Louis is Louis and it shouldn’t work but it does.


End file.
